


And I Like It

by hespera (twitch)



Series: Taking Off... [2]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Animals, Episode references, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:13:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/hespera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a life where being jealous of a cat isn"t entirely unusual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Like It

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2008.

It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the ocean started; the only signs that the two existed were the howling of the wind and the waves crashing with an even greater intensity than usual. Between the wind and the ocean, the rain and thunder were making an equally strong effort to get in a word edgewise. This was just fine to the men inside the beach house, content in their own silence.

Uncooperative screw in one hand, screwdriver in the other, Micky looked up from the battery-run radio he was trying to repair. What should have been easy work was made difficult by the flickering light of his hurricane glass. “Where is Peter? I could do with some help here,” he complained.

“Is he hiding under the couch again?” Mike asked, not bothering to look up as he turned a page of his magazine.

Davy started to shake his head but aborted the gesture, knowing no one could see him where he sat at the window, eyes trained on where the beach should be. “He’s outside,” he answered.

“Oh.” There was an unmistakeable quizzical tone to Mike’s voice. Had Davy looked around he would have seen Mike narrowing his eyes. “Why is he outside?”

“He left his jacket out there.” Davy smiled to the darker outdoors, remembering the afternoon they spent together; Peter watched the wind create whitecaps on the waves, his jacket folded and placed aside so he could enjoy the rush of cold air over his skin, but Davy’s attention was fully on Peter. When the first few drops fell, steady but gentle in comparison to the storm that quickly followed, they jumped up and ran back to the house, jacket forgotten in the dunes.

“And he ran outside to get it rather than stay inside where it’s dry?” Micky asked incredulously.

“Because he didn’t want it to blow away,” Davy explained.

“That almost makes sense,” Mike commented.

With a heavy sigh Micky set down his screwdriver. “Too much sense for Peter.”

Seeing no sign of the flashlight he gave Peter, only lightning streaking across the sky, Davy turned around. He had offered to go out with Peter but he assured him he wouldn’t be long. That was over a half hour ago. Determination on his face he stood up, taking the few short steps needed to carry him to their backdoor. He only got as far as twisting the doorknob; the wind did him the favour of opening the door for him, jerking it out of his hand to smash against the outer wall. Rain poured in, soaking Davy all over again, while the wind blew out Mike’s candle. “What the hell are you doing?” Mike demanded, throwing his magazine onto the table. 

“I’m--” Davy sputtered out the mouthful of water he swallowed. “Going out to look for Peter.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Micky protested. Rising from the kitchen table he joined Davy. It took both of them to shut the door, their feet slipping over the floor and the gale force winds too strong. Once the door clicked shut Micky gave his wet-straightened locks several shakes. He turned back on Davy, his hair curly once again. “You gave him our only flashlight. We’re not sending you out into the pitch dark, and I’m not giving you my hurricane glass.” 

Davy raked his fingers through his hair, trying to un-plaster it from his head. “But he’s been gone for too long,” he argued. “What if he needs help?”

“Then you should have gone with him when you offered,” Mike countered. “I don’t know why you let him go on his own in this kind of weather.”

Biting back a sigh Davy lowered his hand, fingers tightening against his palm. He let Peter go on his own because, for one panicked instant, he thought Peter knew for sure why he was always with him. After last week’s fuss over Peter, asking him where he spent his time and spying on him, Davy took every chance he had to be with his friend. Every opportunity he was given he sat or stood beside him. Instead of fighting over the front passenger seat and losing to Micky like he used to do, he automatically sat in the back with Peter. As much as he loved those moments of closeness, he liked the times when it was just the two of them even more, whether it was time quietly spent in their bedroom or elsewhere in the pad, on the beach or anywhere for that matter. Davy needed his presence, that warm, inviting aura that reached every corner of a room with deft fingers. He wanted those fingers on him, almost as much as he wanted to hold onto them. He didn’t want to let go of his friend for anything.

Who was he kidding? He didn’t want to let go of his friend, it was his love he didn’t want to let go of.

A week ago he had been hard pressed to say exactly what it was he felt for Peter; certainly friendship, fondness and dedication, and maybe a little bit of frustration when Peter was two steps behind everyone else. Davy had to thank Jeannette for opening his eyes. He, lover of women, was jealous of her. It was wild to think of such things but it was true. The need to know what Peter had been doing all that time, without their knowing it, and the pain he felt when he saw him with Jeannette; it had been more than friendly concern and insult. He wanted to get Jeannette out of the picture, so they could have Peter back to themselves, but Mike and Micky never really did fit into the equation. He wanted Peter, only him and his feelings that were looking less platonic the longer he watched Peter, and more like love. 

“Davy!” It was the sharp shout of his name to his ear that had him physically jolting out his thoughts. Micky was watching him a little too thoughtfully for his own comfort, while Mike was giving him his exasperated face, normally reserved for Peter. “Why didn’t you go out with him?”

“I... he said he wouldn’t be long,” Davy replied, shrinking under their pressing looks. “I know now I should have gone with him, but I thought he really would be only a few--”

His feeble excuse was silenced by a bang and a howl. The three of them, still standing before the door, got drenched in a flood of rainwater. It didn’t take nearly as long to shut the door a second time. After all three untangled their knotted arms Davy and Mike glanced around the house, too soaked to notice they were getting hit with the cast-off of water from Micky’s hair. The light coming from the hurricane-glass dimly shone upon a wet, sandy footprint, toes pointing to another print and several more, all leading towards the main-floor bedroom. “Pete?” Mike called.

“Just one minute!” Peter’s voice shouted from the bedroom. Mike and Davy looked at one another questioningly while Micky stopped his head in mid shake. Paying no heed to Peter’s words they rushed the door, flinging it open. With the flashlight on they could see a very sand-covered Peter attempting to peel off his shirt.

“What took you so long?” Micky asked.

“Well, I might have fallen a couple of times... and all the dunes look the same in a storm,” Peter mumbled into his shirt, having managed to pull the front of his shirt up, only to get it stuck to his dirty face. Davy was doing his best not to stare while Mike and Micky soundlessly snickered. “And the weather was slowing me down.”

Davy’s hands were far steadier than he expected them to be; wrapping his fingers over Peter’s shoulders he pushed Peter back towards his bed, seating him. He didn’t know if he was burning up or if Peter was just so frozen, but the stark contrast of temperatures was a shock to his system. Snapping his hands away he tugged on Peter’s shirt, helping to free him. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, not at all!” His head free Peter shook his head firmly. Mike and Micky had recollected themselves, their laughter no more even though they wore amused expressions. Peter lowered his eyes from their faces, his lips parting to breathe out a reluctant word. “But...”

“But what?” Mike questioned, his expression falling into suspicion.

Peter took his shirt off the rest of the way before turning to face the head of his bed, reaching for the soaked mass of his jacket. With gentle motions he gathered it into his arms and turned to face them again. In the silence of wonder a soft almost-hum resounded from within the garment. Cocking his head in confusion Micky moved closer to the bed. “Is your jacket purring?”

Smiling nervously Peter shook his head. “It’s not my jacket.”

“Oh Pete,” Mike moaned, palming his forehead none too gently. “You didn’t.”

Davy shrugged helplessly as a pair of emerald eyes looked up to him, black matted fur swathed in Peter’s red jacket. “You know we’re not allowed to have any animals in the house.”

Peter bit his lip as he glumly looked down to the soaked but purring cat in his arms. He rubbed his thumb over the white patches of its throat, the animal tilting its chin up to let him. “Just for one night, please? It’s pouring outside and I don’t want it to get sick. First thing in the morning I’ll take it back to the beach. I’m not working tomorrow – I can spend the day looking for its owner. Someone will recognise it.”

The green eyes turned up again, fixing a pleading look upon Davy. Its purr appeared to resonate louder as it stared at him, into his soul. “It can stay in our room,” he offered, not realising what he had said until it was too late. 

Peter’s face brightened, his mouth releasing into a wide smile. “Davy, you’re the greatest. I’ll keep it, I won’t let it get your bed wet and-”

“Wait – no – not doing,” Mike interjected, waving his arms and whistling sharply. “If Babbitt finds out--”

“Babbitt is fast asleep, and when he does wake up I’ll have the cat outside. He won’t know anything,” Peter pointed out. As quickly as his smile appeared he pouted, turning sad beseeching eyes to Mike and Micky. “Please guys, just one night. I promise!”

Micky glanced up in time to catch Mike sighing, his shoulders sinking in defeat.

“I won’t let it out of the room!” Peter called as Mike and Micky shut the door behind them.

*

Davy had woken up to sunlight slanting in through their window, but was content to lie in his bed, pretending to sleep as Peter drowsily woke up, his hand curved protectively over the cat, curled up and sleeping beside him. Dragging his fingers slowly over its neck the cat nuzzled its head against Peter’s chin. Davy hummed peacefully in a cheap imitation of the purr that started up from the other bed, wondering if Peter would hold him the same way. 

No, there was no possible way he was comparing himself to a cat, even if they did look delightfully cozy together.

Peter didn’t sit down for breakfast with them, sticking to his promise from the night before. The only time he let the cat out of his room was for the few seconds it took him to get from the bedroom to the backdoor. They watched him slip outside, the cat carried against his chest. They waited to hear any Babbitt-like shouts, but none ever came. Releasing the breaths they didn’t realise they were holding in, they finished their cereal before joining Peter outside.

“Is he making any progress?” Mike asked Micky.

“That would depend on your definition of the word,” Micky remarked, watching Peter approach a brunette.

“Excuse me, are you looking for a cat, or know anyone who’s looking for a cat?” Peter asked, his hand not pausing at all from petting the cat.

She gave only a fleeting glance to the cat, preferring to give Peter the longer one-over. “No, but I am looking for a blond.”

Peter looked up and down the beach, small frown lines forming between his eyes. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked as she took a step closer to Peter, looking up to him flirtatiously.

“I’m no blond!” Peter protested, her actions cluing him into what she meant. “I’m more of a sandy, light brown like.”

“In the right light you look blond,” she commented. She lifted her hand to toy with his hair, curling it about her finger.

Peter took a step back, wincing as his hair didn’t uncurl right away. “I think I’ll be staying in the dark then.”

Mike coughed on the laughter he was struggling to hold back. “Has he had any luck?”

“For the twenty minutes I’ve been watching him, no,” Micky replied with a smirk.

Davy smiled in his own personal victory as Peter backed away from the girl, keeping his back away from her as he rounded past her, continuing his trek down the beach. Davy followed a little ways behind him, unawares of Mike and Micky’s fading laughter. Peter approached everyone he came across, only to get the same answer every time. Having walked a good ways along the beach he sat down, waiting expectantly for Davy to join him.

“I phoned Jeannette before breakfast,” Peter announced, seemingly out of the blue. The two of them had been sitting quietly, watching two little girls offer their ice cream coated hands to the cat. It licked their fingers, tickling them into giggles. “She has a cat of her own, and I mentioned to her that I might need cat food. I’ve been asking for almost two hours if anyone has lost a cat, or if anyone knows someone who’s lost a cat. No one does. If I don’t find her owner she’s going to get hungry, and I won’t leave her to starve.”

“Her?” Davy asked, looking away from the girls long enough to glance sideways to Peter.

“I checked.” A little smile tugged at Peter’s lips, despite the guilty droop of his head. “I can’t leave her outside – she could get badly hurt, or worse, but... do you think Mike and Micky will let her stay?”

“I don’t know. We were lucky that Babbitt didn’t see you leaving the house with her this morning,” Davy pointed out. “If he does see you, we’re going to be in big trouble, not just you."

A sad but knowing look passed over Peter’s face. He nodded faintly as he interlocked his fingers, pressing them against his shins as he bent his legs up. “I asked Jeannette if she could hold onto her until we found her owner, but her roommate barely relented to her keeping her own cat. I don’t have any other options; I need to find her owner, or keep her another night.”

“Another night? You promised last night that it would be one night. Already you’re breaking your promise.” Peter shrank as Davy stated the irrefutable truth. “How do we know it will only be two nights? You might not find her owner tomorrow. She might not even have an owner.”

“She doesn’t have any tags, but she has a collar,” Peter stated calmly. “She belongs to someone, I just don’t know who. They deserve to have their pet returned to them safely, not left to starve or freeze or... swim out to sea.”

The devotion that he found in his friend’s eyes silenced him, putting him in awe. Once again he found himself wanting to be in the cat’s place, having Peter protect him. Davy cleared his throat as though it could clear his mind, to keep his fascination out of the way so he could be realistic. “You know you can’t keep her.”

“I’m not keeping her, I’m just...” Peter’s eyes widened as though the words he was searching for were in front of him. “I need more time. Who would want to abandon her? Someone is looking for her, I just know it.”

Under the mid-day sun the cat was no longer the soaked fur-ball it was twelve hours ago. Her chestnut brown coat was rough around the edges, not completely smoothed down by the girls’ and Peters’ hands, but it was still an improvement. She stopped her preening and posturing for the girls to look back to Davy, blinking brilliant green eyes at him. Her gaze was peaceful, trusting even, reminiscent of the man’s who had taken her under his wing. Guilt eating at his conscience he turned away quickly, fixing Peter with a stern look. “What I think has nothing to do with what Mike and Micky think, and more importantly what Babbitt says. We are not allowed pets in the house,” Davy reminded.

“I’ll only keep her in the house at night,” Peter stated firmly, not ready to give up. “I’ll keep her outside the rest of the time, I’ll feed her outside. She’ll sleep with me, she’s quiet. Babbitt won’t see or hear her. It will work.”

“Have you forgotten that you work?” Davy reminded. “What’s going to happen while you’re serving coffee?”

“You’ll take care of her.”

“Me?” Shock doing well to destroy his reproving tone Davy blinked, not expecting the answer at all. “I’m not going to babysit a cat!”

“Only until I get home, then I’ll take care of her,” Peter reasoned. “When I get home I’ll feed her, keep her outside. All you have to do is ask people if they’ve lost a cat. She’s not hard to take care of, she doesn’t run away.” Peter gestured to the cat, sitting upright where she had been all the time, grooming herself clean from sticky hands, the girls long gone. “It’ll be easy, and if you’ll help, Mike and Micky won’t out-number me.”

Davy released his lip from his teeth in attempts to dissuade. “I can’t--”

“This isn’t a horse,” Peter pressed on. “It’s a tiny, little cat. She won’t be any trouble.”

He opened his mouth in another protest, but the words turned into a surprised exhale, feeling pins digging into his thigh. He looked down to find two dainty paws, followed by two more, perching themselves in his lap. Green eyes stared up at him beseechingly, followed by a small mew.

“Please?” 

Rolling his eyes affectionately Davy scratched between the cat’s ears. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

Peter wrapped his arms around his shoulders, squeezing enthusiastically. “Thank you so much Davy.”

Davy laughed as he unexpectedly found himself pulled against Peter’s chest. An indigent yelp of a meow sounded as the cat was unearthed from her seat, toppling into the sand. Davy wasn’t too worried, far too occupied memorising the feel and warmth of Peter’s arms, holding onto it tightly lest it was his only chance.

*

Davy woke up to the sound of Peter getting ready for work. He opened one bleary eye, hoping to get an eyeful of his roommate shirtless before falling back to sleep, but he was already fully dressed. Instead he saw the cat stretch her body further up the bed, resting her head on Peter’s pillow, all without opening her eyes. Remembering the promise he made to Peter the day before he moaned into his own pillow. “How can you wake up so early?” he muttered into the worn cotton.

“With practise, and the promise of wages,” Peter replied, his voice a little rough but otherwise cheerful and awake. Davy turned onto his side, sitting up and watching Peter grab his wallet off the dresser. “The cat food is in the blue container on the counter. I should be home by four.”

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to wake himself physically if not mentally. “Right.” Pulling his fingers through his hair he realised his response wasn’t needed. The door had been shut quietly, followed a few seconds later by the heavier sound of the front door shutting and locking. Giving a quick glance back to Peter’s bed to ensure that the cat hadn’t moved he slipped out of the bedroom as well, making his way to the bathroom.

Showered and dressed Davy carried the not entirely compliant cat outside. Cooperation came into play once he picked up the food bowl Peter had chosen the night before with his other hand, breakfast already in it. He set her and the bowl down on the back stairs, seating himself on the step above them.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be asleep,” Davy accused, pillowing his head with his hand as he watched the cat eat. She had one paw in the bowl, keeping it from flying as her attack on her food would have had it flying onto the beach otherwise. Not that she had to; they were the only two on the beach. Anyone with any sense was still sleeping. With that thought in mind he let his eyelids sink. He had twenty seconds of near bliss, a warm wind carried in off the ocean brushing over his face, before something raked across his forearm, followed by an indignant yowl. 

“Don’t wake up the others!” Davy hissed in warning to the furry face tilted to look him straight in the eyes. “More importantly, don’t wake up Babbitt!” Blinking owlishly she glanced up and backwards, seemingly in the very direction of Babbitt’s house. “If he finds out you’re staying with us there will be big trouble. You’ll be back out on the beach. So you better behave, or else there will be no roof or food for you.”

Head falling in a semblance of chagrin she gave a tiny mew. Empty bowl behind her she rubbed her head against his scratched skin, lifting her paws from the steps to his thigh. Davy chuckled and lightly scratched her ear. “If you’re trying to get my forgiveness you’ll have to try harder.” She lifted her head, purring mightily. “I am not one to be easily swayed by a cute face.”

Whether or not she was forgiven, it didn’t take long for her to curl up in his lap, fast asleep, as he drifted in and out of sleep, the increasing warmth doing well to convince him to close his eyes, but the sounds of surf and waking birds kept him from truly sleeping. He finally startled awake as he heard the familiar yelp of a cold-water shower from indoors. Davy started to look back to the house but stopped himself as he spotted a morning jogger run closer to the ocean’s edge. He wasn’t the only one around, the beach starting to get filled up with little children and the women taking care of them. Rolling his head gently to loosen up his tense neck, he stood up, hands shifting to support the still dozing cat. “Come on now, wake up, we have your owner to find,” Davy said, jostling her slightly until her eyes opened into narrow slits.

With Mike and Micky out busy with their own errands, Micky out to replace the drumstick he had lost, and Mike to get a new car tire after they found the drumstick, broken under the quickly deflating tire as they tried to leave the driveway, Davy spent his morning without his friends. He wasn’t alone though, easily making company thanks to the cat. There was no shortage of hands petting her, or arms holding her, but no one recognised her or had heard of any missing cats. Not looking forwards to telling the others the news he spent the afternoon trying to come up with the right words to apologise and beg to Mike and Micky. Failing that he could always set Peter and the cat on them, all big eyes and sad faces; it had worked the night before, it could work again. 

Making his way back towards the house, the beach getting busy now that students were out from school for the day, he tried again, hoping that the new faces would have better news. The cat had been quickly liberated from his grasp as several girls cuddled and played with her. Taking the opportunity to stretch his arms he sat down, wiggling his toes into the sand. On his feet for most of the day, he finally had the opportunity to relax, and planned on taking advantage of it.

A heavy accent called down to him. “How much for pussy?”

“More than you can afford.” Recognising the shadow falling over him, narrow and ending in a head of disarrayed curls, he didn’t need to look up. “Do we have all four tires for the car now?”

“At last, yes.” Flopping down beside him Micky groaned. “Replacing a tire shouldn’t be hard, I’ve done it before, and yet it took the whole afternoon.”

“Next time don’t leave your drumstick in the driveway,” Davy reminded.

“Yes mother,” Micky drawled into his forearm, having raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sun, lying down as he was. “Mmn, speaking of that, any luck on little orphan Kitty?”

Davy shook his head, but kept an eye on the cat, busily attacking the pigtails on one of the girls, much to their amusement. “Looks like Peter and I will have a roommate for another night.”

“As long as it doesn’t get into our room, that’s fine with me,” Micky commented. “Well, it would be better if we could get it out of the house, preferably before Babbitt makes us.”

“Don’t think that Peter and I haven’t been trying, we have.” Sighing deeply he glanced down to his friend. He jabbed him in the ribs. “Tomorrow you get cat-sitting duties.”

“No I don’t. You and Pete are the Cat United Front, allying together to return all orphaned cats to their homes,” Micky replied. “Mike and I are your adversaries, the Anti-Feline Federation, trying to get all cats out of our house.”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t take her in.”

“They know that, I told them that yesterday.”

Micky sat up sharply, brushing off sand that had somehow scattered over his chest. Davy tried his best to appear unbothered by Jeannette’s presence. “Did you just get home from work?” Davy asked, glancing to Peter who stood a step behind her. 

“About fifteen minutes ago. Mike was busy lecturing me on not keeping my guitar under the car,” Peter explained. He shook his head in bewilderment. “I know I’ve put the butter dish in the oven before but I can’t imagine why I’d leave my guitar in the driveway.” Micky coughed awkwardly, but not too much to catch Peter’s suspicions.

“I left my keys in the fridge once,” Jeannette added, laughing embarrassedly. “But everyone does stupid things once in a while.”

“You’re not the one who lives with Peter,” Micky pointed out.

Peter rolled his eyes, but ended with a pressing look to Micky. “You’re right, she isn’t, but she did get to hear Mike grumbling about you as he cleaned up the driveway.”

Micky attempted nonchalance, shrugging a shoulder up and giving an easy smile. “I’m sure it was good-natured grumbling.”

Biting her lip Jeannette started to shake her head but stopped, only getting in a short twist of her chin. “So where’s this cat you’ve taken in under your wing? I phoned the veterinarian I take mine to, and they’ve been notified about a couple missing cats. She might just be the one.”

“Right over there, winning over one school girl after another,” Davy said, nodding his head in the direction of the girls. 

Glancing in the direction he indicated Jeannette watched the gathering of cuteness, her hopeful face gaining a little smile. “She seems to be having more success than some other people,” she remarked.

“How so?” Casting his gaze back in their direction Davy could only see smiling faces and the cat twining around arms and hands. “She has their attention and they have her attention, no one is missing out.”

Jeannette shook her head, her smile doing the laughing for her. “If you say so.”

“You must be imagining things, because there’s nothing there to see,” Davy assured her.

Micky’s laugh had him glaring his way. “I must have a great imagination, because I see it too.”

“See what?” Peter asked, still watching the girls in hopes to find out what the joke was. “I don’t know... oh.”

Peter’s blank but surprised expression combined with Micky’s laughing did nothing to help his frustration. “What is it?” Davy questioned.

“She... well, one of them – that is...” Peter started, gesturing to the girls but trying not to look obvious, only succeeded in making himself look flustered. “That girl is--”

Getting control of his laughter Micky posed his question with a straight face. “How is it you can flirt with a girl with unpractised skill and yet not recognise when a girl is flirting with you?” 

His head snapping from Micky back to the girls, Davy began to understand the scene; past the pigtailed teenager sat a brunette, her school blouse unbuttoned once at her neck. The cat was now up on her lap, nuzzling into her arm as she pet her. All the while the girl glanced back and forth between the animal and him, smiling and tilting her head towards him, trying to beckon him closer. Failing that she called out to him. “What’s her name?”

Opening his mouth but making no sound Davy gaped, trying to make the words that should have come easily. Micky was back in hysterics and even Peter looked close to laughing. “We don’t know what her name might be,” Jeannette answered in their stead.

“Aww, the poor thing,” she replied, scratching the cat under her chin. “It’s so thoughtful that you’re taking care of her.”

“That’s our Davy, so very thoughtful,” Micky gasped between laughs for their silent friend.

“Where’s the lady-killer Davy you told me all about?” Jeannette asked teasingly.

Micky perked up with interest. “What has he told you about me?”

Jeannette bowed her head in thought, narrowing her eyes unconsciously. “Well... that is...” 

Davy smirked, Jeannette’s long-stretch of silence helping him regain his confidence and vocabulary. “It looks like you’re just a footnote in my legacy.”

Pouting Micky turned his face from Davy to Peter. “You must have told Jeannette something about me.”

“I’ve been trying to think of something worthy to share, rather than tell her about the time you ate that one restaurant out of business, having eaten everything from their buffet,” Peter defended.

Davy burst into laughter at the near-forgotten memory. “I remember that! You had spatula-shaped bruises on your back for a full week!”

Cheeks flushed, but lips almost white from being pursed tightly, Micky muttered under his breath. “Thanks Pete.”

“The least appealing stories are always the first ones to be shared. My friends have so much material on me, I wouldn’t let them anywhere near Peter,” Jeannette commented. “So why don’t you tell me about the worthy stories? Peter said he was back on cat-duty, and I’m sure Davy would like to reclaim his title as lady-killer.”

Davy cast a wary eye in the direction of the teenage girl, still flashing coy looks his way. “I – think I’ll work on that for another time.”

*

The week seemed to drag on, broken up only by a Wednesday night yelp from Mike as a mouse had scrambled over his foot while he had made his way to the washroom. Not even seven hours later they woke up to Micky screams, the result of the cat having somehow broken out of her bedroom to pounce on the mouse that was accosting Micky’s slipper-covered feet. There was a mad scramble as Peter and Davy scooped up the proud hunter and dazed prey respectively, running out the back door as Babbitt hammered his fist on their front door.

“You woke everyone up again!” Babbitt shouted at Micky and Mike.

“It was the mouse again!” Mike defended.

“It was attacking me!” Micky wailed. “Six-inch fangs and a whip for a tail, I’m lucky to have escaped alive!”

“Oh really, where is the monster?” Babbitt sneered.

“He’s just on his way out, but if you insist,” Davy replied, returning from the back door to their landlord, holding the bewildered mouse by its tail. 

Babbitt retreated, hiding himself behind Mike. “Get rid of it now, go back to sleep, and don’t wake up the neighbours.”

Yawning, Mike and Micky padded up the stairs to their bedroom. Rubbing his head Davy made his way back to his bedroom but the squeak from his other hand reminded him he had someone to set free. As tired as he was he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, the night having been disrupted for a second time; he boiled some water on the stove and got out two mugs. When the water was ready he poured it into a teapot, taking the pot and mugs outside to the stairs where Peter sat, blearily staring at the waves cresting gently onto the beach, the cat perched victoriously on his lap. “When does your shift start?” Davy asked, easing down beside them.

“In an hour,” Peter mumbled. Taking one of the proffered mugs he let Davy pour him some tea, unaware of the noises the pot was making. The cat noticed it though, her eyes narrowing first on the pot, than the lid as it shifted, beady eyes peeping out from underneath it. Davy just finished pouring himself some tea when the lid toppled over, the mouse crawling out and down the pot, the cat chasing it onto the beach. “Do you think this is safe to drink?”

Davy glanced sceptically to his drink. “I’m not drinking it.”

Upturning his mug, pouring the tea down the side of the steps, Peter sighed. “I almost got us caught. Babbitt was too close to seeing the cat, twice in the same night. If it weren’t for him Mike would have yelled at me.”

“If it weren’t for you we’d still have a mouse running around the house,” Davy argued. He gestured to the beach, the cat toying with the mouse, batting it back and forth with her front paws. “If you didn’t take her in, Micky would have been bitten by six inch fangs.”

Laughing lowly Peter shook his head. “I need to get rid of her, I know it, but I don’t want to abandon her. She’s someone’s pet. Looking at her... she reminds me of the cat my grandma gave me when I was little. I took such good care of him, just like she and my brother told me to. But a month later he ran away, or so my parents told me. It took me a while to figure out what my brother meant by saying running away isn’t the same thing as getting kicked outside repeatedly, but I did.”

Davy tried to shake his head free of a vision of Peter as a boy, with the shaggy hair of now and the big eyes of youth, cast with tears. “I’m sure your brother didn’t mean it,” he offered, rubbing Peter’s back.

“Do you think someone would just throw her away?” Peter asked quietly. Cupping his chin in his hands he watched the mouse stagger away, the cat finally bored with their game.

“No, someone’s looking for her,” Davy replied, gripping his shoulder.

“I hope so.” Hanging his head Peter stared at his feet, watching his toes flex and straight for a minute. “I need to get ready for work.”

“I need to get ready for my CUF shift.” 

Smiling faintly Peter watched his feet for a few seconds longer before standing up. “Thanks Davy. I know you didn’t want anything to do with her--” 

“I wanted to help, I just didn’t know it at first,” Davy assured him.

“I really appreciate it.” Smiling sincerely Peter padded softly into the house, not quite closing the door on him.

Turning back from the door Davy watched the cat saunter towards him, tail snaking through the sand. He placed his hands out to his side, freeing his lap before she even climbed into position. “Failing that we don’t find your owners, I wonder if Babbitt would be willing to hire you as pest-control,” Davy murmured.

*

With Peter and Davy’s reputation becoming the quietly spoken ‘cat-carriers,’ they always had company on the beach from morning until evening. Wherever there was a huddle the cat would be the centre of attention, either with Davy or Peter beside her or a few paces away. It was no exception later the next night. The night was getting darker, but since it was the weekend there were more people out late. 

The couple wandered away from the cat, leaving her to bask in the after-light of attention. Peter left her be, preferring to watch the waves. Feeling as though he had ten pounds of sand stuck between his toes Davy wanted to head back to the house, but he didn’t want to leave Peter alone. Undecided he found his attention diverted, the cat lifting her head as a distant noise sounded. “What did you hear?” he murmured.

“Did you say something?” Peter asked, still staring out at the ocean.

“I did, but--” Cutting off his response was the same noise, but sounding closer and more like an actual voice. Davy stood up, peering down the violet-lit beach. “Who is that?”

Peter remained seated, his hand drifting out to pet the cat as it approached, only starting as the voice called out Peter’s name. “That kind of sounds like Jeannette... but what is she doing here?”

Picking up the cat, Peter stood up just as a figure appeared on the beach, jogging slowly towards them. Moving towards it confirmed Peter’s suspicions. “Peter, you’re...” Taking a deep breath, sounding more reluctant than winded, she looked back and forth between the two of them. “The two of you are needed at the house.”

“Why?” Davy asked, not liking her low tones. 

“I... I went into the veterinarian today. Someone had asked about a missing cat and...” The way she hung her head finished the sentence before she whispered the words. “They described her perfectly.”

Davy glanced out of the corner of his eye, seeing Peter’s mouth fall open in a silent circle. “She does have an owner looking for her,” Davy murmured.

“A family... they were up in San Francisco for the week, got back this afternoon only to discover that she was missing. They contacted the veterinarian today, and he remembered me, so he called me in... and...” Jeannette turned her face away, clutching a handful of curls to her cheek. “I’m so sorry Peter.”

Peter nodded his head faintly. “It’s what I’ve been trying to do, I’ve only been trying to find her family the past week, and it’s finally happened.”

“Let’s reunite them,” Davy suggested, tugging gently on Peter’s elbow.

The three of them walked the beach back to the house at a slow pace, quiet but for the light purr of the cat. Jeannette glanced back to them at the bottom of the steps to the house, hesitantly leading the way and opening the door. Micky and Mike looked just as awkward as they did, standing while a family of three sat on the couch, a young girl sitting between her parents. Peter had barely stepped inside the house when she looked up, recognising the cat in her arms. “It’s her!” she cried, leaping out of her seat and rushing Peter. “You took care of Pearl!”

“Pearl?” Davy asked, glancing at the chestnut brown cat quizzically.

The girl turned towards him, rolling her blue eyes. “She wears a pearl necklace like my mom does.”

“Oh, right.” Davy nodded his head quickly at the correction, glancing from the girl to the cat, who had her head tilted up to let Peter rub her throat, revealing the white patches around her neck. “Pearl is a very fashionable cat.”

“A pretty cat for a pretty girl,” Peter agreed, crouching down to the girl's level. “I took care of her, for you.” 

“She’s a smart cat, she knows when she sees good person,” the girl stated, looking directly at Peter. A put-out expression darted over Davy’s face, gone fast before anyone but Jeannette could see it. She bit her lip, shaking her head in reply to his reaction, before they were both glancing back down to the girl. “Thank you, sir.”

“It wasn’t just me, my friends Davy and Jeannette helped too,” Peter mentioned. He shifted his arms, passing Pearl back to the girl. Pearl mewed faintly, but nuzzled deeply into the familiar warmth of her arms. “And I’m no sir, I’m Peter.”

She smiled widely. “I’m Melissa!” 

Melissa’s father stood up, stepping towards Mike and Micky. “Most people wouldn’t think of taking care of a stray animal but you boys did. Melissa was so worried when she couldn’t find Pearl this afternoon. This means so much to all of us, we owe you more than our thanks.”

Mike waved his hands in protest as the older man pulled out his wallet. “Oh no, we can’t take your money.”

“We should be paying you, Pearl did better work than an exterminator,” Micky added. “We barely avoided an attack, an army of mice taking over our house. She ran them out, better than the Pied Piper. Eight-inch fangs, all around, foaming at the mouth; they all turned tail at the sight of a most fearsome Pearl.”

“Consider it a... fee to clean the battlefield,” his wife said, trying not to smirk at his vivid portrayal of the scene. “Come on sweetie, it’s late and you should be in bed.”

“Can Peter and Jeannette come by to visit Pearl?” Melissa asked, turning to face her parents.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Jeanette cut in instead of laughing at Davy being left out again.

“Why would Pearl want to see us?” Peter asked. “She has a good young lady to look after her.”

“Come on good lady,” her father called, his indulgent tone apparent to all but his daughter. “We need to go home.”

“Thank you Peter, Jeannette, Dave,” Melissa said. She rocked onto her toes, kissing Peter on the cheek, before joining her mom by the couch. They followed after the family, exchanging goodnights before they left, Jeannette leaving a few seconds before they did.

Mike locked the door after it eased shut. Micky arched an eyebrow at Davy. “Dave?”

“Why would she remember his name when she only has eyes for Peter?” Mike asked, smirking at the dark expression on Davy’s face.

“Your luck with the ladies has gone downhill in the past two weeks,” Micky teased.

“Very funny guys, but at least I’m not the one getting sympathy points,” Davy retaliated. “I’m not the one who’s first portrayal to Jeannette included the buffet-incident.”

“The buffet! Do you still have the bruises?”

Leaving Micky to Mike’s ribbing, Davy escaped to his bedroom, smiling at his own ability to escape a similar fate. He quietly shut the door, listening carefully to make sure they hadn’t heard or seen him leave. His smile disappeared as his eyes fell on Peter, sitting on the edge of his bed, face down-turned. “Are you feeling alright?” Davy asked, sitting down beside him.

Starting to nod, Peter stopped, blinking slowly. “With Pearl, I felt like I was six years old all over again. I’m glad she’s back with Melissa but... I already miss her.” He laughed softly, dragging his hand over his bed. “I have no one to share my bed with.”

“I could sleep with you.” The suggestion escaped his lips without warning. Davy’s eyes flew as wide as Peter’s did, the two staring at one another. “Joke! It was just a joke,” Davy rushed.

“Right.” Chuckling softly Peter smiled at Davy. “Besides, I’d hog all the blankets.”

“I’ll leave you to that,” Davy said, hoping that his smile wasn’t as nervous as he felt. “I’m just going to wash up, but I’ll be going to bed in a few minutes.”

“Careful of the army of mice,” Peter called.

“I know, they carry guns,” Davy mentioned, grabbing his towel and pyjamas.

Peter stayed seated, waiting until the door shut behind Davy. The room to himself he collapsed back first to his bed, rolling to his side to eye Davy’s bed, picturing the younger man at sleep. He sighed, pretending to reach out for his roommate. “Would you really sleep with me?” he whispered hopefully.


End file.
